


Blame

by ifinkufreaky



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: Choking, F/M, Hate Sex, Lagertha has a death wish, Rough Sex, Slapping, dark!Ubbe, my darkest ship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-03
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-11-08 12:55:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11082021
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ifinkufreaky/pseuds/ifinkufreaky
Summary: Lagertha can't fight the pull she feels toward Ubbe, even though she knows she's fated to be killed by one of Ragnar's sons. Possibly the darkest thing I've ever written. I'm not trying to say this is a correct reading, just an interesting one.





	Blame

_Fall upon your knees, say_  
_“This is my body and soul”_  
_Crawl and beg and plead, say_  
_“You’ve got the power and control”_  
_Don’t pin it all on me..._

**_Blame,_ ** _by Bastille_

 

Loss and fear can worm their way so deeply into a heart that a woman forgets who she was without them. They change her in ways she doesn’t notice, but it’s better that way. Better not to notice the aching holes in your soul, to make friends with darkness and terror. Lagertha could not even say when they had begun to change her, didn’t want to think about it. The course of her life had molded her and could not be changed back.

A life so comfortable with pain creates strange urges, make a woman forget about decency or the natural order of things.

It started so innocently. He looked exactly like Ragnar from behind, held himself with the same quiet resolve. Nostalgia stabbed straight through Lagertha’s heart when she watched Ubbe’s mouth twist in his same little smile. The smile was never for her, of course. She had killed his mother and usurped his inheritance. All to win back a man who never ended up returning. To regain a life that could never come back. She looked around her hall and felt only hollow, kept company with bitterness and regret.

They shared Kattegat all winter, Ubbe having returned from England without any of his brothers to tend to his pregnant wife. They would travel to the new lands after the baby was born and she was stronger. Mostly Margrethe slept and Ubbe drank, and he seemed to tolerate Lagertha a little more each day.

She thought about it a little more every time she saw him. It wouldn’t even be the most sordid thing she had ever done: after her lover fucked her own son, she had taken Bjorn’s lover to bed with her in something that was part apology and part payback. She had thought it would bring them all closer together, but everyone was distant and strained this winter. No one was around to stop Lagertha from sidling up next to Ubbe, basking in the echo of Ragnar’s eyes and brooding about whether he was the son who was fated to kill her. The prophecy haunted her, and no amount of alcohol could chase off the feeling that she deserved it.

She was drunk when she started it; she felt she had been waiting for it to begin for a while now and was ready to get it over with directly.

Ubbe’s eyes pierced her as soon as her hand made contact. He was much more sober than she had imagined. “What are you doing, Lagertha?”

She slid the hand she had placed on his thigh further up his leg, fingers diving toward his crotch. “Making you an offer,” she said levelly, boldly. Nothing scared her anymore, other than the death she knew to be inevitable. “Come to my bed tonight.”

Ubbe laughed in her face, but when she tried to pull her hand back he caught it, his fingers steel around her wrist, grinding her further against himself. His amused eyes went hard and he leaned his head toward hers. “If you want to wet my dick for me tonight, I will allow it.” His eyes roamed over her face. “You’ve still got your looks; you should be able to get it up for me.” He was already hardening under her hand.

Her stomach squirmed at his harsh words in some sort of sickly satisfaction. This wasn’t what she had expected, but a dark pleasure answered from deep inside her. She stared dead into his eyes and squeezed him through his breeches a few times, then stood up abruptly. “I will be waiting for you,” she breathed, making sure her lips brushed his ear as she spoke.

Lagertha stood at the foot of the huge bed in a thin night dress. Ubbe did not take long to stalk inside and close the door. He stepped so close to her, face still so hostile. She didn’t suppose he’d ever stop hating her. She’d made her peace with that; she was still compelled to be close to him. “Well?” the achingly familiar face growled at her.

She ran both her hands up his broad chest, brushed through his beard to cup his cheeks and pull his face down to hers. Even the awkward confusion lighting Ubbe’s features looked like Ragnar. She ghosted her lips across his, testing the waters.

Ubbe inhaled sharply through his nose, pulled his head back. A moment later she felt the sting of a slap across her cheek, hard enough to make her stumble. “Never kiss me,” he hissed. When Lagertha looked back up at him his face was twisted with rage and disgust.

They stared each other down for another moment, hearts racing and chests heaving. Lagertha’s cunt felt as warm as her cheek. She drew herself up with a slow smile, leaned toward him and he slapped her down again. She let herself release a wanton moan into the silent room.

Ubbe’s mouth twisted into a dark smile. Ragnar in battle, now. “Did you like that?” He hit her again, harder, and when she fell to one knee he buried a fist in her hair and pulled her closer to him. “You want me to get rough with you, Lagertha? Because that would be my pleasure.” His other hand scrambled at his pants; Lagertha watched his cock spring free a hand’s breadth from her face. Bigger than Ragnar’s. “Open your mouth.”

Lagertha lifted her eyes to Ubbe’s face one last time before she complied. He didn’t look as much like his father right now, but he looked like what she deserved, snarl on his lip and dominant joy in his eye. He struck her cheek one more time, the hand at the back of her head stopping her head from going anywhere this time. No escape from the beast in front of her. She glared up at him and licked her lips slowly, then dropped her jaw.

Ubbe forced his thick tip past her teeth eagerly, then sighed and held himself there. “Well? Do something.”

Lagertha sucked him even more earnestly than she had imagined she would. The humiliating throbbing on her cheek had awoken something in her. She wanted to grovel before this man, whom she had wronged so terribly for plans that had not even achieved their true aim. He was right to hate her, and she was ready to receive whatever punishment he meant to mete out.

Before she could bring him to climax he pulled her roughly to her feet. “Take this off,” he commanded, tugging at her gown. He stripped off his tunic while she complied, breathing hard. Sweat was shining on both their brows already. When Lagertha stood proud and naked before him, Ubbe took a long moment just to look at her, eyes lit with that proprietary look that men get, the one that promises you’re not leaving without a limp in the morning. The corner of his lip twitched and he shoved her back onto the bed.

Lagertha crawled backwards on her elbows as Ubbe loomed over her, tossing her head and glaring up at him defiantly. More than anything she wanted to taunt more of this awful energy out of him.

“Did you know, Lagertha,” he began, voice husky and deep, “that I used to think about you at night, when I first learned to touch myself? You were the most magnificent woman I had ever seen. I would lie awake wondering what you looked like under your armor.” That smirk again, and then he was running his hand over her breast. She was sure his wife’s were firmer, but Ubbe seemed happy to grasp and twist. The careless way he handled her body somehow turned her on more; it had been years of gentle and eager-to-please lovers before this. He pressed and squeezed her and any pleasure she was feeling was just a side effect of his groping desire. She had almost forgotten what it was like not to be in control.

Ubbe ripped his own pants off with the athleticism of youth and tried to turn her over. Lagertha growled and finally resisted. “No,” she commanded, “we do it face to face.”

Ubbe’s mouth pinched as he considered her request. “Just because you said that, I am going to fuck you from behind every single time.”

Lagertha’s eyebrow arched. “Every time, you say? What makes you think we are doing this again?”

“The hunger in your eyes,” Ubbe said, an arrogant look spreading over his face. He leaned in. “The fact that the worse I treat you, the more you love it.” He slapped her on the side of the thigh to prove his point and then tried to flip her again.

She could have fought him off if she’d been willing to throw a punch, do some real damage, but Ubbe was right. Every moment of humiliation only sparked her arousal higher. She growled and struggled against his rough hands but it was mostly symbolic; she allowed him after a moment to get her on her stomach, press her belly and then her face into the furs.

He spread her legs with his knees. “I hope you are ready for me, Lagertha,” he said, mouth raising goosebumps over her back. Then he corrected himself. “Actually, I don’t care.” Thick, probing fingers were the only warning that she got, and then he was slamming his impressive girth right into her.

She must have been wet enough because the massive thing kept sliding, though he was stretching her so harshly that sharp pain was mixing with the deep pleasure of it. He hissed out his own enjoyment, pausing when he had buried himself in her for only a moment before he started pounding at her mercilessly. The way she had seen men do to the poor helpless women after raids, when Lagertha hadn’t been able to stop them. She did not stop Ubbe now.

When he left, she brought herself to orgasm with her fingers, over and over, tormenting herself with the memory of rough hands and Ragnar’s eyes.

Lagertha was not sure why she did it, but she did it again, many times. She and Ubbe found each other in the dark of that winter often, and always just the same. Her on her knees or her stomach, fighting him to be used hard and cruelly. Ubbe was like a rough scratch against a terrible itch, satisfying and self-destructive both at once.

“Do you see what it’s like,” he asked, fist in her hair pulling her head back to make sure she was listening. “To be fucked by someone that hates you. How many husbands have you killed, Lagertha? Did you fuck them like I am fucking you, before you ended it?” He was making her pay for her every regret; she closed her eyes and welcomed it. Her own end was coming soon, she could feel it. The seer had said she would be killed by a son of Ragnar. Maybe she was courting that death, maybe that’s what this was.

Ubbe let up the punishing pace of his cock just a little, just enough to make sure she could pay attention to his words as he pressed his lips close to her ear. “One day when I get tired of this, I am going to tell Ivar what you have been letting me do to you. Then I’m going to bring him to your bed. I’ve heard he’s not much for satisfying a woman, but for you I think he’ll get creative before he ends you.”

“Ubbe, no,” Lagertha heard herself gasp, all pride crumbling. She truly believed he might do it; it was her worst fear. She twisted her head to try and catch his eye. “I know I am fated to be killed by a son of Ragnar. But please,” her voice broke only a little, “please, I want it to be you.”

Ubbe’s eyes tightened; she could not read his look. He withdrew himself slowly and flipped her. Face to face, just as he had sworn he would never do. A thrill of real fear shocked through Lagertha’s body as she wrapped her legs around him. She welcomed the immediacy of the feeling, in a heart that had been numb for so long. Was this the end? She still could not read his face. He reminded her of Ragnar again, Ragnar in those later days, complicated and inscrutable.

Lagertha moaned as Ubbe pressed himself into her again, allowed her arms to rise and embrace him. Why was she clinging to this man? She still did not understand herself. He started a quick, hard rhythm and then his own hands wrapped around her throat.

She stared into eyes like Ragnar’s and convulsed in pleasure and terror intermingled. Only three things existed in all the world: those hard blue eyes, the heavy pressure at her throat and the heavy blows at her cunt. She wondered if this counted as death in battle as she watched her hands scramble to fight him off.

Just as the blackness started to eat at the edges of her vision, she saw Ubbe’s face scrunch, felt him spasm and slow, spilling his seed inside of her. He pulled his hands away and rose up over her, watched her writhe and gasp to fill her body with air again. His voice was thick with satisfaction and something else. “It appears you got lucky, this time. Later when I begin to bore of you it will take me longer before I finish. Maybe you’ll get your wish then.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I always appreciate it when you tell me how you feeeeeeeeeel...


End file.
